Between the Cuts
by Avide
Summary: Charlie, a girl, and the gang. Toss lightly with violence. Add a flame-thrower as a garnish. a.k.a. Snippets of "Always Sunny" life between scenes and episodes
1. Racoons

_Charlie and the Drinking Game  


* * *

_

"When I was little," Charlie said, "I wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to cure morning breath."

The brunette across the bar from him blinked and tilted her head. Charlie lifted a shot glass to his lips and downed its contents, barely making a face afterward.

"Um, no offense, but…is this place supposed to smell like garbage?" she inquired, her own fingers curling around another glass.

"I have a special way of heating it, Harper," he replied, patting the bar, looking around at the [unpleasant] ambiance of Paddy's Pub. "Earth-friendly, unique…it's resourceful."

"It's…I'm sorry to be so rude…but it's really bad for business."

Charlie paused then, having brief flashbacks to moments when his co-owners of Paddy's Pub had done things just as unordinary as his use of garbage to fuel the heating system. Kidnapping, theft of a cat, not patching up a glory hole…he prided himself on having a circle of unstable friends to support his recklessness.

"You remember the rules of the game!" he said, responding to his counterpart's opinion. "You agreed to them! I shared a secret, now it's your turn."

Harper adjusted the bandana folded around her wrist like a cuff. "All right, all right…um…I know how to make a lot of different kinds of drinks and I know a decent amount about beers," She took her shot and screwed her eyes shut. "Oh god, that…that does not taste the way I thought it would."

"I once made out with a female Elvis Presley impersonator."

Charlie's happy, innocent expression was met with Harper's raised eyebrow and scrunched nose. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Your turn!" he cried.

"I..I don't know how to ride a bike."

"_**Really?**_ I'm allergic to pigeons."

"I have myself convinced that orange pulp would make me really sick."

Charlie refilled their glasses.

"I like rum," Harper said, looking up at him through her lashes. "But this stuff tastes like rum itself got too drunk and threw up into that bottle."

"I've always wondered if Mystique's snot is a different color from that of humans or other X-Men characters." Charlie told her, handing her one of the glasses.

"I once made a necklace from real crab claws and gave it to my mother as a birthday gift." Harper replied.

They took their shots at the same time. As soon as his glass was on the bar again, Charlie walked around it, sliding onto the stool next to hers. He stared at her large brown eyes, with the slight golden color around the irises. The thin layer of black liner along the upper lid only served to sharpen the look she was giving him.

"I'm a hopeless romantic, I guess," he said. "I mean really hopeless. There's this waitress who---"

Harper giggled (in that slow, booze-affected way) and gently touched her fingertips to Charlie's mouth. "I was told about her…the musical and a restraining order…"

He nodded. "Yeah, her, and from then on, I haven't been able to get a woman's interest when I really just want someone to be with me when I throw rocks at raccoons and play drunken laser tag."

Harper's eyes widened. "Oh man, laser tag, I'm in! So long as you'll sit through _Replicant _and simultaneously stuff your face with chocolate non-stop until you almost puke."

Running a hand through his stylishly disheveled hair (sleeping on a stiff, dirty mattress every night can do that), Charlie leaned in a little closer, wondering what her hair smelled like.

She took another shot. "I used to own a dog that only liked to eat birds; even big ones."

"I've done that." He answered easily, knocking back more liquor.

She laughed until her forehead met his shoulder. He turned his face just as she lifted hers.

"Whenever I get near a game of volleyball," he said softly. "I start this flinching twitch. Here, I'll demonstrate---"

"I went to college with the singular goal of becoming an event planner for homeless people."

He chuckled, smiling. She gasped at the sight.

"Your eyes just lit up!" she whispered.

"Let's share a pet chimp." He whispered back.

It made her sigh.

He halted at that.

"How old are you again?" he asked.

She grinned. "Old enough. For sure."

"But I met you outside of a high school."

"Don't be gross."

And he kissed her.

* * *

_I had to do this. I had to. I'm losing what's left of my sanity, clearly, but I hope it's entertaining all the same. 05.17.10_


	2. Lawn Flamingo

_Charlie and a Lack of Cash

* * *

_

"Charlie, we were supposed to pay the rent today. How can you not have the money?" Frank spat, kicking his roommate in the stomach.

It was a perfectly normal day for the two friends, of course.

"I told you! Now stop kickin' me, Frank!" Charlie shouted trying to use his arms as protection. "Frank! If you keep beating me up, I'll eat all the Spam pot pies!"

Frank landed a solid punch to the side of his roommate's neck before stalking away.

"You won't know pain 'til you've snorted pepper or watched _The Nightman Cometh_. I'm putting my part of the rent into the envelope on the table, and if your cash isn't with it in one hour, I'm hockin' a cat food-flavored loogie into your face."

The door slammed. Charlie groaned and sat up. Feeling his phone ring, he dug it out of his pocket with some difficulty.

"Mac!" he cried. "What's up, buddy?"

"Dude," was his friend's reply. "I'm on the roof."

"W-why are you on the roof?"

"I'm trying to fly a kite. Now I need a favor. Could you go to that pawn shop we bought a wedding dress from that one time and-"

"Hold on, hold on," Charlie answered. "This is too many references to the past in one day. It has to be bad for a guy's health."

"Come on, man, please just help me out. I need gasoline and a duffel bag and a lawn flamingo and-"

"Mac, you have to slow down! I don't have what that takes! I don't even have the money to pay rent!"

"You need to move out of there. Didn't that doctor tell you there were going to be major repercussions if you kept up your fall-asleep routine?"

Charlie stood up and approached the nearby mirror, checking for blood. "There's a threat of a _**major**_ rainstorm and you're flying a _**kite**_ on the roof!"

"Dude, hey!" Mac practically yelled. Charlie imagined him running his hand over his dark, gel-slicked hair in frustration. "Why aren't you just _**helping**_ me like a loyal friend?"

"The last time I asked you to help me, you were all, 'I can't, bro; I'm pickin' up chicks'!"

"Listen, sometimes I need a break from the guys. You wanted me to post bail, which is expensive. You should've known not to pee on a fire hydrant outside the Waitress' building."

Charlie growled, considered throwing his cell phone across the room, eating the leftover postage stamps on Frank's end table.

"Don't start giving me the silent treatment again!" Mac was shouting. "My kite's about to get away before I can act on my big idea; are you helping me or not?"

Our protagonists' thumb pressed on the 'end' button. His other hand reached for a can of spray cheese in one of the cupboards of the apartment's tiny kitchenette.

"Where's the white icing…" he muttered.

In his mind, there was only one way that he could make whipped cream at home for free, and this was it.

* * *

_Ahhhhh. if ideas like this one are the result of my drinking beer, then I've created a monster. And that's just what I need: yet another personality. Last edited 02.07.11  
_


	3. Wheat Beer

_Mac and Dennis Meet the Girl_

* * *

"We're going to buy wigs, use costumes, makeup…" Harper said, leaning heavily against the bar, "We're not going to be really cheap about it."

Charlie wanted to get closer to her, but just as he stood up, Mac and Dennis seemed to appear on either side of him.

"Are you thinking of stealing office supplies from the bank or taunting animals at the zoo?" Mac asked. "'Cause… Charlie's already done that."

"Then you and I threw rocks at trains, and you aimed your piss at one of them."

Dennis patted Charlie's shoulder. "We know what a loser Mac is, don't worry."

"Hey!" their friend responded, though the insult wasn't enough to draw his eyes away from checking on how his tattoos were holding up.

"Was the rock-throwing just…regular after-school behavior for you two?" Harper asked. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie replied. "We go way back! Dennis came into the picture a while later."

Dennis rested his forearms on the bar. "Mac, while you're back there, would you get me a beer?" He met Harper's gaze. "The three of us met in jail. Charlie had been on a blind date and got so nervous that he ate all the bread at three different tables and broke a window and whatever else he did."

"I accidentally knocked out the hostess…and the manager thought I was assaulting her." Charlie added.

"Anyway, Dennis had been stealing beer from a convenience store," Mac told Harper, "and I got caught banging the super-hot daughter of the high school principal because I wanted to get revenge and thought she was his much younger wife, because that happens, and-"

"You met in jail," Harper finished, examining her black nail polish. "That's very sweet. Excuse me."  
Off she went, headed for the bathroom, and Mac turned sharply toward Charlie.

"Dude," he said. "Where'd you find her? She's really young for you."

Dennis downed some of his beer. "That's true. What is she, twenty?"

Charlie sighed. "Age doesn't always mean something, man, you know-"

"She's clearly legal, but come on. The age difference is significant, I guarantee it," Mac continued. "Can she keep up with your kind of crazy?"

"She's definitely older than twenty, okay?" Charlie shot back. "She doesn't run away from me or call the cops on me or try to convince me that I've fathered her child, so why can't you pretend to be supportive here, guys?"

Dennis rolled his eyes. "Look, with the bangs and the way she carries herself and the fact that the only kind of beer she seems to like is wheat…Charlie, she doesn't seem right for you, but…who is, now that I think about it…?"

"Is she legal to drink?" Mac inquired.

"Yes!" Charlie cried. "Shut up before she comes back!"

"Let me see her ID. I don't want you to find a random, boring college chick you're going to bring around here and make us tolerate."

"Shut _**up**_ Mac!"

Dennis set his empty beer bottle down. "Let's get out of here, Mac. Leave him alone."

The two said their good-byes to Charlie, albeit less enthusiastically than usual, and Harper chose that moment to return.

"I should leave in two hours," she told Charlie. "I…I have plans to meet my roommate."

"You're going to have another bad movie night?"

"Yes!" her eyes started to shine. "We like to use them as inspiration for our discussions of insane ideas like…" she cleared her throat. "An action flick starring Tracy Morgan, Megan Fox, and Jean-Claude Van Damme: _Stripper Cop_."

Charlie stared at her. "Wow."

She nodded, smirking.

"That is a horrible idea."

Suddenly, she was grinning, bigger than he'd ever seen a girl capable of, and moved quickly between his legs, her hands grabbing the lapels of his oversized, Army fatigue jacket.

"I know," She said quietly. "Do you still have camping equipment stashed in the office?"

He glanced in the direction of the Paddy's Pub office, despite his being unable to even see its door from the bar.

"Yeah, why?"

"Could we take it out back or up on the roof?"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth slanting upward. This moment seemed to be going in a very good direction. "Maybe, maybe. What for?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I…I know you have a lighter, and…I like flames."

"You enjoy watching things burn."

Now wearing a shy expression, Harper seemed to back off. "Maybe….yes. Yes I do. I went to a Turner/Monet/Manet show at an art museum solely for the large number of paintings devoted to buildings on fire."

Charlie swallowed. "I-I know what we could use."

* * *

_I'm too old for this. 05.18.10, last edited 07.31.12  
_


	4. Cherry Hill

_Charlie and the Moment Killer

* * *

_

Dee was standing outside her building, shouting at someone over the phone when she spotted Charlie across the street, stumbling in her direction, a girl on his arm. One of the most surprising things about this moment, for her, was that the girl was smiling---no, grinning---as if she might be laughing. For anyone besides Dennis, Mac or Frank to laugh at something Charlie said…Dee felt certain that something had to be wrong with that person.

"I'll have to call you back," she said into her cell. "Sorry? Um…look, what I meant was, I'll call you to continue this conversation when I deem it necessary." She clicked the phone shut. "Charlie! _**Charlie**_!" she shouted stomping her Converse sneaker on the sidewalk.

Across the street, the subject of her attention almost halted mid-step. The much younger woman on his arm sent him a curious look.

"I don't know if I want you to meet her yet," Charlie informed her. "Even if she's called Sweet Dee; I don't know why anyone thought she should have that nickname. L-look, you've met the guys, that's enough for now."

"Would Dee want to grill me?" Harper inquired, her bracelets clinking as she traced her free hand down his arm.

He glanced down at her fingers, unsure of what to think. Affection; it was so foreign…and therefore f**kin' weird.

"She'll tell you I'm dumb and list the reasons why. Then she'll try to get you to say I've drugged or blackmailed you."

Harper's head snapped in Charlie's direction. "Did you just say 'blackmail'?"

"I love 'Law & Order'," He explained. "Let's just walk faster. I could show you where the hobos all meet up to fight."

"Ah, well maybe," Harper sighed. "But I had fun on that bus tour."

"Pouring beer on passersby and blaming the half-conscious drunk on board is always fun."

"Thank you for that, by the way. Your Philly is interesting."

"_**Charlie**_!" Dee yelled, running toward them. "You owe me money!"

His pace picked up.

"How much do you owe her?" Harper asked.

He cast her a panicked look that made her silently smile and match his rhythm.

"Want to buy some pepperoni and eat it all?" he suggested as they tried to power-walk away from the skinny blonde shouting about money.

"How about you do that and I'll do the same with cookie dough?"

Charlie tugged nervously at the collar of his Eagles of Death Metal T-shirt and heard a small ripping sound.

"Charlie, you son of a b***h!" Dee cried. "Get back here and just give me the cash so I can stop chasing you!"

"How long will you be in Philly?" Charlie asked his companion.

"Maybe three more days, on and off, spending most of that time in town, but I'm crashing at a friend's place in Cherry Hill, New Jersey."

"I've never been to New Jersey. Does it smell?"

"Not where I've been!" Harper replied, chuckling. "Have you ever been outside of---"

"When that carriage tour horse tried to cop a feel, you had a mean punch, Harp!" Charlie cut in. "Are you sure you don't wanna get into the fights tonight? I promise I'd bet on you!"

"I don't want to join a fight club, let alone one of homeless people."

"But you have those pointy elbows! They're painful weapons!"

"Charlie, I know about my sharp elbows. I actually have to check them at the airport."

"You'd be perfect! We could come up with some WWE stage name; it'd be so awesome!" Charlie babbled excitedly. "Come on, you can't go home yet."

"I can't?" Harper glanced back, unable to see Dee anymore.

"Uh…" Charlie paused abruptly, turning Harper to face him. "Yeah." His awkward uncertainty continued as he fumbled with where to put his hands, gave up, and leaned in.

Harper opened her mouth at first, as if to ask a question, but kept it that way to receive his chapped lips and the taste of Irish stout.

"My place is two blocks away." He mumbled against her mouth.

"If you have beer, pickles and _Commando_, consider me there already."

"Charlie!" screamed a nearby female voice.

He tottered around to face the road, and there was Dee in her Range Rover.

"Are you gonna have sex with her?" the blonde shouted.

Harper tipped her head back against the brick building behind her. Charlie rubbed at his temples. It made Dee laugh.

'Damn, she sucks.' He thought.

* * *

_How did I finish this chapter in one day? 05.19.10 Thank you Neveu for that joke.  
_


	5. Bus

_The Guys Get Bloody and Bruised_

* * *

"Dennis, why are you bleeding from the mouth?" Dee demanded. "Not that I don't like to see your face full of blood and pain, but I'd like to know what's going on."

Mac was examining his knuckles and Dennis was leaning heavily over one of the bar stools.

"Ch—" Dennis began, coughing. "We were on the bus. Charlie started a fight with the driver. Mac encouraged him-"

"Charlie was right!" The other man countered. "You know how he occasionally gets a decent idea and then doesn't properly act on it? Well, I helped him to go in the right direction."

"You tried to threaten the driver into going off the bus route! He was a big man! How effective did you think your approach would've been? You're not a superhero, you D-bag!" Dennis retorted.

"I so am! Someone should start comic books about me."

"You two picked a street that's known to be really shady, man."

"What're you talkin' about?" Mac spat, confusion etched into his face.

"That's a drug-infested strip, Mac. Nothing good is over there." Dennis insisted.

"Maybe a _**good bar**_ is over there!"

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

Dee rolled her eyes. "So nothing exciting has happened."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dee," Dennis replied, standing up and gently patting his bruised cheek. "Was the violence against us not exciting enough for you? Mac. Mac, I just thought of something. No matter how much we may have upset that bus driver, he had no right to attack us like that."

"Damn right." Mac answered.

"I say we look into _**suing**_ him."

Dee brought a bucket of suds and a rag behind the bar, began to scrub, and checked the clock.

"Where's Charlie?" she asked. "It doesn't look like he was here this morning."

"He was here. Used Windex, fixed a sink, killed two mice. We got some s**t finished, then he and Mac were thirsty, we got on a bus with creepy people, and then the fight went down."

"So there is a reason he's still employed here besides being one of your best friends?" Dee inquired, still barely interested.

Mac dabbed at the back of his neck with a paper towel. "Jealous much, Sweet Dee?"

"Shut up. I don't care what goes on between you three."

Both Dennis and Mac shot her a look.

"What!" she continued defensively. "I _**don't**_ care, so long as it doesn't involve crack or having anything to do with my apartment, or driving yet another vehicle of mine into a wall."

"Aw, quit complaining!" Mac said, just before realizing that the paper towel in his hand still had a good amount of blood on it. "Don't be such a pansy, Dee. You have to learn to let stuff go."

"You have damaged so much of my stuff!" she cried.

Dennis ignored her and took his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed a particular number and held it to the ear that wasn't ringing. When he heard an answer, he said, "Hey…Charlie…how are you holding up?"

_"Not bad, bro, not bad! I have bruises and my jaw is aching like never before, but…besides that, I'm all right."_

"Okay, cool, Charlie, that's good to hear-"

_"I'm __**really**__ sweaty, though; probably from running to my place from the bar. When we were on our way back to Paddy's, I thought that maybe the bus driver would follow us somehow, so I didn't want to stick around."_

"I noticed," Dennis answered, "and that's fine, but dude-"

_"I ran all the way here and kept sweating for some reason. Harper called me about something else, but I told her what happened and she offered to come over with her hair dryer. I don't know what that means, but-"_

"Is Harper at your apartment right now?"

_"Yeah, she's plugging in the hair dryer. It has a 'cool' button on it and she says she's going to wave it at me-"_

Dennis rubbed his forehead. "Charlie, I think you'll need to come in tonight to help Mac and I clean up the post-fight mess we've made."

_"What time tonight?"_

"Possibly eleven o'clock, and you could stay for just an hour. It could take less, even."

_"What looks the worst?" _Charlie asked, and Dennis heard odd _clunk_ing noises in the background.

"A bar stool, Mac's shirt…there's a mirror in the men's bathroom that's probably still-no, I'm certain it has blood on it."

_"Give me a call later if you need my help."_

"What if the seat of that stool needs re-upholstering?"

_"Is that a word? I-What does it…even mean?" _Charlie chuckled awkwardly.

"I guess if that needs to be done, I'll let you know," Dennis replied. "So you've spent, like, two days out of five with this Harper chick. She's, like, twelve, right? How does conversation work?"

_"It's not like that. Relax. Look, I didn't expect to be around her at all today. How could I have known that she'd be all, 'What can I do to help you with your jaw'? I mean, playing nurse! It's awesome!"_

"That's great, Charlie. I-"

In the background on Charlie's end of the phone, Dennis thought he heard water running and a female voice saying, "Um…I can't turn it off!"

Suddenly, Charlie's voice was a bit panicky. _"Dennis, dude, I have to go."_

"You have to go now?"

_"Yeah, Harper, relax, okay? Put that down! I have tools underneath one of these floorboards! I'll talk to you later, Dennis."_

Dennis stared at his cell once he heard the dial tone, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah…" he muttered. "Later."

* * *

_I'm trying to continuously get inspired without going crazy. My fear is mounting. 07.31.12_


	6. Book

_A Thursday Night For Charlie's New Girl_

* * *

Dennis and Mac had just called to say that they had reactivated the dating site account they lied their way through on Charlie's behalf those months ago. It included a picture of him, but the majority of the interests were made up because Charlie's real ones were "too f***ed up" in Mac's opinion. He wasn't about to apologize for the fact that he didn't like seeing people's knees!

That said, he didn't want Harper to know that his buddies were still so uncomfortable with her holding his attention one or two times a week. It was a fact that if she had been aware, she would rant about it and ask Charlie to be sure of what he wanted. He knew she was in her early twenties, and sure, that still had moments where it made him squirm, but…not most of the time; like now, as Harper walked in the door (as planned) with milk and a bag of other groceries.

"Where'd you find these?" Charlie asked, tapping the stack of paper-wrapped items now sitting on his table. "There isn't a grocery store or anything like that for at least three blocks in every direction!"

"The closest one doesn't sell these, either."Harper agreed.

"I know. Got any cherry-flavored?"

"Two. The other two are lemon-flavored, and the bigger thing I got was…" Harper lifted the thin, rectangular object. "Please open it!"

Charlie tore open two of the packages at once. "Oh man, awesome! I got an apple one!"

He shoved part of the apple-flavored, unhealthy dessert bar into his mouth, giving his hands plenty of room to turn pages of the Deadman comic book.

"Charlie, did you just eat part of-"

"Listen, the wrapper for this apple thing has some deliciously flavored goo in it!"

"Please be careful, would you? I'd hate to get a call from you saying your stomach was just pumped."

Charlie shook his head vehemently. "That has happened, but I like to avoid hospitals if I can. They always want personal information and that makes me defensive, so I wouldn't want a nurse to hear you call me Charlie when they know me as Nick Wechsler or Frank Oz."

Harper giggled quietly behind her hand.

"Where did you find this comic book?"

"Far away," she replied, smiling. "There's a book store with a really cool attic and…it's this legal version of that Cobra Starship video. It-Don't worry about the details."

"Is the place here in Philly?"

Harper shook her head.

Charlie took another big bite of his apple-like treat. "When do you go home?"

"Tonight, you mean? When do I go to New Jersey?"

He blinked at his lady friend's question. "Yeah, that's exactly what I mean."

"I figure I'll head back around nine." She replied.

"You're going home that early? You-you don't want to stay here a little longer and watch that episode of 'Bait Car' we missed?"

She rubbed her knuckles along part of his beard. "I've had a busy day, what with my job and later talking that zoo security guard out of tearing your head away from your shoulders."

"I told you I wanted us to co-own a chimp. We could afford it, right? You know, if you kept one cage, I kept another…What do you do for money again?"

"I'm an assistant to a city executive."

Charlie's eyebrows rose. "That sounds smart and difficult."He said, chuckling awkwardly.

"My boss is going to be doing pro-bono work soon; a project to add to everything else," Harper explained with a sigh. "A new branding deal, whatever that'll mean, and I have to find another job before September. There just won't be any room for me."

Now bored, Charlie finished off his questionable snack. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"I bought a book during my meal break this afternoon. Want to act on it?"

Cue skepticism. "Is it about making friendship bracelets?"

That stopped her mid-movement. "Do you want it to be?"

He made a slight squinting face (and dragged out an _'ih'_ sound) before saying, "No. What's the book about?"

Harper tried to hide a smile and pulled the aforementioned object out of her nearby bag. It was a copy of Breath of the Dragon: Homebuilt Flamethrowers.

Charlie blinked again. "Y-you're kidding. You've got to be kidding."

Harper blinked and slightly pouted her lips in response. "Well, we could hang out here and play Battleship…?"

He stood up and sighed. "I'm not saying no…but I have a few questions you have to answer first."

* * *

_From the beginning, I've wanted Harper to get her hands on a flame-thrower. 05.02.10_


	7. Flourish

_Ganging Up On Charlie_

* * *

Charlie was drunk again. He had spent hours illegally fishing, crabbing and singing that _Get Him to the Greek _"Furry Wall" song to himself, which of course had left his muscles tired and brain craving beer. Besides, he often liked to be drunk before sitting through an episode of one of Frank's favorite shows, "Jeopardy!". The results of this afternoon's expedition were a military boot, an empty Andre's champagne box, a copy of Going Rogue, a few bits of what looked like vomit, and five crabs, two of which were half-alive. Every fisherman has a bad day. He planned on showing his findings to Frank later.

Until then, here he sat at Paddy's, using his pinkie finger to draw designs in the water that had condensed from his beer mug to the wooden bar. The door opened.

"I'm thinking of dying my hair-" Sweet Dee was saying on her way in. "My whole head of hair; Maybe I'll be a brunette for a little while, see how the less attractive girls live."

"Wow, Dee," said Mac's voice, sounding enlightened. "I just realized…" Charlie turned around to meet his childhood friend's gaze, catching a wink. "That I do _**not **_care what you have to say. Shave your hair completely off and I won't care."

Dee dropped her sling-like messenger bag on the bar and raised an eyebrow. "You would care, Mac."

"Yeah, sure," he replied, smiling, shrugging. "But only in the sense that I'd be laughing at you. Shave your head! Do it tonight! It would look weird; not every person looks good bald."

"G.I. Jane." Dee told him.

"Officer John McClane," Mac said, as if correcting her. "If I were to go gay for anybody, I'd bang McClane."

Dee folded her arms. "That's charming. He wasn't even completely-"

"Shut up and get me a drink, woman."

That's when she turned her attention on Charlie and he squirmed, chugging some of his beer.

"Charlie, what're you up to?" she asked, her voice authoritative.

He didn't know how to answer her and thus decided to look to Mac again. "Dude, you're the best and all-I mean, you're awesome-but when are you gonna leave my apartment?"

Mac's eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and Dee grinned in smug surprise.

"W-what do you mean, dude?" Mac said.

Charlie sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what you and Dennis are fighting about, bro, but it can't be a friendship-breaker. Please talk to him tonight and fix this, because I…I'm sorry, I can't take this anymore."

"What does that mean, Charles? I thought we were best buds!"

"Do you _**enjoy**_ having plastic on the furniture? I hate it! I want it gone. I'd like you to move out. Frank doesn't like it either, and we need you and Dennis to get back together."

Mac sighed heavily. "I didn't know you felt this way, man. I'm disappointed, but…it would be nice to eat my cereal without having to worry about Frank digging s**t out from under his toenails with a knife right next to the bowl."

"Frank has every right to clean his toenails wherever he wants."

"Oh, he can wherever, Charlie? He's done it in public and you didn't mind? He does it right by your head when you're asleep and you don't mind?"

"Not really, dude. Now you're putting words in my-"

Dee threw her hands up. "Guys, will you shut up about this? You're just going to make excuses for your own disgusting habits instead of solving anything."

"You shut up, Dee." Mac retorted, glaring at her.

"No, _**you**_ shut up, you child!"

"Move out, Mac!" Charlie cried. "Work out your problems with Dennis and move back into your apartment!"

"If he gives back my copy of the last _Universal Soldier_, that'll be a good start," his close friend answered. "It's just not easy to hear one of your two best friends say that he feels suffocated by you. Dennis straight-up told me that he couldn't 'flourish' when I was-"

"You were pestering him to call you once every hour." Dee finished.

"My friend's safety matters to me, Dee. You wouldn't understand."

She glared at Mac in response.

"You don't have friends." He concluded.

"I hate you."

This statement made Mac pull out his scarily Ken doll-like, cheesy grin.

"Dennis called me yesterday," Charlie said. "He talked about _**you**_ the _**entire **_time; it was ridiculous."

"Really?" Mac inquired.

"He said he was going to change his cell phone number and not give the new one to you. You know what this means, man? It means that you need to talk to him _**today**_ and try to keep what you've had for years. Whatever made you fight couldn't have been a huge deal, bro."

Mac shrugged and nodded. "Good point," he sat down at the bar, two stools away from Charlie, gesturing at the space, arms wide. "I plan on doing some serious drinking right now. I want lots of room for the empty bottles. Oh, and on a somewhat related note, where's your babysitting charge?"

Charlie's shoulders dropped.

"It's a Saturday night. I would've thought you'd be out with her."

"Call her by her name, man."

Mac shrugged again. "It's not like her name is easy to remember, dude; it's a weird name. Heaven or Holly or…what's the girl's name, Dee?"

The lithe blonde made her way around the bar to get a drink. "Something that starts with a 'P'?"

"Helen…" Mac continued. "Helvetica…"

"That's a font, Mac."

"It's Harper and you know it!" Charlie said in exasperation. "Our lives don't, like, revolve around each other, okay? Jesus, do you want me to be with her all the time? Do you want to push me away, too?"

Mac stood abruptly. "You dick, is there more to my fight with Dennis than even I know about? What're you implying? Dee, get me a beer."

She opened her mouth, eyes narrowed.

"I've been busy all day and I'm tired," Charlie informed his friends. "Harper's working, and besides, I don't want the two of us getting drunk together again-not here anyway-just in case she sees how Dennis handles a gun and tries to climb into his lap."

Mac and Sweet Dee stared back in disbelief, blinking after a beat or two. She glanced between the two insane excuses for men.

"Should I say it?" she queried. Another pause followed, then, "Charlie, I feel like there was a _**huge**_ story gap right there. What exactly…how…where, in your thing with a seventeen-year-old, does Dennis play a role?"

"She's over the drinking age, Dee! Back off, would you? I'm sick of defending this to all of you."

"You know the legal drinking age isn't eighteen anymore, don't you, old man?" Mac said, giving Charlie a pointed look.

Said look received a stare that said: 'Not amused'. "She's twenty-two."

"Cradle robber."

"You say that as if you wouldn't bang her, dude." Charlie grumbled before downing the rest of his beer.

Mac shrugged in agreement for the second time. "What's this about Dennis, though?"

"That's none of your business. Dennis and Harper have barely met, but…she and I talk, and...She has this thing about…just leave it alone. Why can't you leave some of my sentences as they are-just accept them?"

Dee rolled her eyes. "I give up. Charlie, why is there a pile of crap just outside the bar entrance? I mean, a few dead crabs are in the mix, and I've told you that taking them is illegal. You've also seen that river and-"

"I get it, I know. So what? Let it be. I'll put 'em back." Charlie responded tensely. "It was a productive day by my standards-"

"Your standards are pretty low." Mac snickered.

"I'm leaving!" Charlie shouted, slamming his hands on the bar as he stood up. "I'm going home."

Away he went, back to the apartment he shared with Frank. "Jeopardy!" was about to come on.

* * *

_chapter last edited 06.20.10...This has to be the longest chapter yet!_


	8. Chainsaw

_Frank Wants to Kill Mac_

* * *

Eyeing the nearby mountain of junk, Charlie put on what he believed to be his skeptical face.

"What're we doin' here, Frank?" he asked. "You're not planning to remodel the apartment by yourself again, are you?"

Frank's eyes were excited, the apples of his cheeks were starting to resemble their namesake, and he had taken to alternately licking his lips.

"I'm not here for a hammer and nails, Charlie," said the sixty-something-year-old man. "Do you remember what I said I wanted to use to help us with our investigation?"

"We are not doing the same investigation."

"But you're going to follow me around every time I try to prove Mac's guilt!"

Charlie paused, now wearing his expression of disbelief. "Of course I am, but that would only be to keep you from killing an innocent man."

Frank spun on his heel. "_**Innocent**_?"

"Yes, man, look. You believe he's a murderer, so you want to _**murder **_him? How does that make sense? You shouldn't try to be some kind of revenge-wanting-"

"You mean vengeful."

"Yes, that's what I meant. You know I meant that, so why can't you pretend I said exactly that?"

Charlie shut his mouth at the sight of Frank disappearing into his storage locker, knocking things over, bringing on unusual, awful metallic noises.

Twenty minutes later, he heard, "_**I found it.**_"

He swallowed hard. "What's up?"

Frank emerged from the mess, a very worrisome grin on his face-the wide kind that made his eyes gleam, even with that pair of black-framed glasses on his nose.

"What I am embarking on is a fragile journey;" he said in a hushed tone, "A careful, beautiful dance to the gates of truth and justice."

Charlie's eyes widened as much as he imagined was humanly possible.

Brandishing his weapon of choice for the occasion, Frank licked his lips again. "On this journey, I bring…a chainsaw."

* * *

_chapter last edited 06.25.10 -...- Because I love a number of things about "Mac Is a Serial Killer"; one of them being everything Frank does in it._


	9. Tapes

_Charlie Gets Worried_

* * *

"Hello?"

"Charlie, hey, did I bother you during an important call?"

"No, no, it was almost over when you called. That was settled; everything's fine."

"Last time we talked, you said something about tonight; something about me…and tonight."

"Yeah, I thought we should hang out. I ordered pizza a few minutes ago, and I thought we could…" Charlie pictured Harper removing the cheese from every one of her slices as he watched, enamored. "Watch some TV and stuff."

"That sounds good! I can be over there around five. I'm still at work and you know how traffic is between four and six."

He tugged at the sleeves of his Box Tops T-shirt, the pits of which were dark from sweat.

"I watched a live taping of 'Project Badass' today."

"Oh yeah…the…videos Mac makes, right? You do love those."

"Today had a different feel, though, 'cause Dennis and I were kickin' back in chairs on the ground, havin' beers, watching it happen, and Mac hurt himself. It was over…pretty….pretty…"

"Quickly? Was it the shortest tape he's made so far?"

"I think so. Anyway, I think Mac is gay and that he has a big thing for me _**and**_ for Dennis." Having dropped that bomb, Charlie waited for a horrified reaction. Instead, after a pause, he heard a sharp, long inhale.

"Charlie…" Harper said, gasping. "Thank you. I've had a bad week and this-" She cut herself off with a small squeak. After another, louder noise, Charlie asked what was wrong. She replied, "I…I fell against the counter and…I might've just punctured an ovary."

"You hurt your neck? Do you need me to call someone?" That's when it dawned on Charlie. "Oh man, you're _**laughing**_. Why are you laughing?"

This time, Harper guffawed into the mouthpiece of her cell.

Charlie blinked rapidly. "Wow."

"I should go to a hospital," she told him. "I've sometimes wondered if I suffered brain damage at one point that made me attracted to someone who sweats a great deal and won't tell me why he keeps leg braces and a wheelchair in his closet, but I don't actually-" She paused to laugh again. "I don't have any organ damage, bleeding...I'm fine, Charlie. Thank you for offering to help, though."

"So you don't get why you're so into me?"

She chuckled. "That's exactly what I mean."

* * *

_chapter last edited 07.31.12...I wonder what the "Always Sunny" fellas would think of all this..._


	10. Leather Pants

_Mac and Charlie Don't Get Along_

* * *

Charlie curled the tube from the IV drip around his finger, but his focus was on taking in the sight of the person in the hospital bed beside his chair. This county medical center was nothing like the clinics he typically meandered into when he wanted to swipe some staples or rubber gloves on his way home from illegal fishing or swimming.

"Dude," he said with a sigh, "What made you _**do **_that?"

Mac plopped his own hand down on the blanket. "I've told you already, Charlie. Are you drunk?"

"No! I just…I'm trying to get a grip, here. I mean, look at you!"

"Do you think this blanket is just thin cotton sewed around paper? Like…the kind of paper on my first grade teacher's easel."

Charlie's eyebrow lifted and his upper lip scrunched. "What the hell, are those the drugs talking? I want some, bro!"

"You like that?" Mac replied. "I thought it'd be awesome to jump my bike from the roof of my building to another one; the closest one of course. No poppin' sparks that time, though, because I had epic music goin', I was wearing leather pants-" he sighed dreamily, proudly, his head tilting. "I had a real plan."

"It, uh…didn't work out well, did it?"

"Charlie, don't stifle my dreams, dude! We're supposed to be friends!"

Now offended, Charlie scooted to the end of his chair. "I _**am**_ your friend! I'm one of your _**best **_friends!"

His passionate speech was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. Naturally, he was a bit annoyed by being cheated out of a speech that could've fit into a potentially award-winning movie script, but he answered the call.

_"Charlie." _said a female voice.

"What's up, Sweet Dee?"

_"I heard Mac's in the hospital. What did he do?"_

"He hurt his penis."

Then came that curious sound Charlie had heard from Harper yesterday when he'd opened up about Mac's supposed gay crush.

"It's true. I'm right next to him now."

_"Put him on, Charlie, put him on. Put him on right now."_

"I'm not gonna do that, Dee. He's sort of drugged up, and I don't see how it'd be fun to make fun of him when he can't really understand you."

_"Mac injured his own dick. I have exclusive rights to make him regret it for the rest of his life."_

"But he's on these painkillers that-" He paused, picturing Mac in Charlie's long underwear, _**the**_ _**Waitress**_ at his side, and in a court room, defending his letter to a baseball player, then said, "All right, hold on," He extended his arm in his buddy's direction. "Mac, it's for you."

* * *

_chapter last edited 01.13.12_


	11. Skin

_The Gang Owns a Boat_

_

* * *

_

"The colorful, visual stimulation," Dennis explained. "is appealing to such a…" he gestured to Charlie briefly and Sweet Dee grimaced. "…A childlike mind."

"Stop showing off," Dee said to her brother, but he continued.

"Our friend Charlie, here, has a weird brain," Dennis continued. "He doesn't comprehend, but simply take in what he sees...a black hole with a goofy smile…" he leaned over the bar, settling his forearms there, inches from an empty beer mug and a very new-looking book titled The Boat Book. He was grinning in that evil way he had. It made Charlie uncomfortable to realize that Dennis' gaze was focused on Harper. "And you're bangin' him."

Harper immediately seemed offended. She crossed her arms and raised her chin about an inch. "You don't know how I am, dick." She replied.

Dee's eyes were wide and hungry for drama, obviously loving the building tension.

"You're not exactly flawless, yourself," Harper added. "Being recently divorced from a loveless, ego-driven marriage after which you had to scramble to find a new place to live, and here you are with a boat you don't know how to fix."

Mac pushed his chin up with his finger, thereby closing his gaping mouth.

"Well s%#t." Dee said, staring at Harper.

Dennis cleared his throat. "Charlie's child bride did bring the conversation back around to the boat," he said, turning to the rest of the gang, simultaneously trying to be subtle about opening the hardcover book on the bar. "Props for that, Harpy, because I found **_teeth marks_** on the mast of our new boat, and I'd like to know how they got there. Charlie?"

His friend's eyes widened. "You're kidding! Why would I, like, gnaw on the-" Charlie's eyes darted around a bit, flitting twice to his lady friend. "on part of the boat? I'm not a dog!"

Harper held up a small Ziploc bag. "We still have plenty of raisins and Q-tips for him to chew on, anyway."

He waved her off.

Glancing at the nearby book, Dennis said, "The keel is a little beat up -"

"For the last time, Dennis, the keel is on the bottom of the boat. You're talking about the, um…" Dee snapped her fingers. "Oh, you mean the **_shackle_**, yeah, because you nearly broke it, Dennis - a piece of our new boat. You're an idiot."

"Shut up, Dee!"

Dennis slammed the book shut on the bar top.

"We should have some of those barnacles left, if -"

Harper's hand met Charlie's chest, her eyes sending kind rejection. He sighed.

"Yeah, nobody's hungry, Charlie," Mac replied. "Dennis, why don't you steal some cash from your ex-wife's wallet? We could get stuff this afternoon, because I'm going to be in Rittenhouse Square anyway, and we could-"

Dee groaned. "Oh shut up. No one listen to Mac. He has slicked his hair and with those laughable clothes, he **_clearly _**wants to look like a pe-"

"The point is that there are teeth marks on a part of our boat!" Dennis cried. "Why is this being ignored? Isn't it a big deal that a human being- - -especially a f&$#ing adult - - - be chewing on our new prized possession?"

"Maybe they've been there all along?" Mac suggested, adjusting his blazer. "You know it wasn't me. I'm not a freak."

"Oh my god," Harper breathed into Charlie's upper arm. "This is like watching _JCVD_."

He tilted his head. "What?"

"It's like getting the rude waitress at Perkins," she pushed his sleeve up enough to kiss his shoulder. "What I mean is…I'm left confused and unhappy."

"I want to make money and food and possibly meet some pirates!" Charlie replied, keeping his voice quiet enough for only Harper to hear.

"I understand that, but…"

"Please don't ruin this for me," He said, turning to face her. "I've always wanted to try my hand at the fisherman's life, and maybe have a documentary made about me down the line. Like, on_ TLC _or something."

"We watched 'The Boy with No Skin' on that channel, right? A 70-year-old was pregnant, too-"

"Yes, Harper, we did, and I have a dream here, so please."

She briefly linked her pinkie with his. "Okay."

He was grateful for her form-fitting clothes today. Pulling his gaze away, he saw the door to Paddy's close on Mac's heel. He and Harper were now alone.

"Go ahead!" she said, stepping back. "I'll go now, but um…before I do…one question."

"Uh-huh."

He turned back to her.

"Are the teeth marks from you?"

He attempted a doe-eyed look, responding with, "Maybe."

* * *

_*sigh* I love that Dennis gets married. I love Charlie. Jimmi Simpson came back. Scoooooooooooooooore. 10.03.10 edited 01.28.11  
_


	12. Home

_Charlie and Harper Reference S#%t_

* * *

"Come on, just let me finish explaining this."

Sweet Dee sighed. "It's a Vin Diesel movie. I know how it ends. "

Both Harper's and Charlie's shoulders dropped.

"If I wanted to hear something both boring and awful, I'd listen to that 'Bedrock' song from Young Money."

Harper had to nod in agreement at that.

Charlie leaned in close. "What?"

"I haven't heard a truer statement in ages." She replied.

"Did you just say 'ages'?" Dee snorted. "It's as if you're not a baby."

Harper sighed. "I'm out in Philadelphia for a job that could help change my life. When I came out here, the only person I knew was the friend I'm living with. That says something about me."

Charlie watched her as she spoke, then sent Dee what he figured was a pointed look.

"What do you do at work, anyway?" The blonde woman inquired.

Harper relaxed against the cushion of the booth. The action made a plastic crinkling sound.

"I'm an assistant to an executive who's working on the Li -"

Dee sat forward, forearms on the table. "That's enough. You can finish that sentence when a) You don't look seventeen, b) You're fighting those weird marks by your rib cage-are they just wrinkles that happen when you move, or are they stretch marks?-and c) When your job is actually f***ing interesting."

Harper's eyes narrowed for a second. "Yeah, 'cause you know what it's like to have an interesting job."

"I once went into business with my dad. You have no idea."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I am. I should be. I will continue to be."

The blonde, still bats**t, thirty-five or –six and mostly muscle, gave Harper an arrogant smirk, arms now folded on her chest. The sight prompted Charlie to lightly bump elbows with Harper. She met his eyes and nodded.

"I've been kept longer than I thought I would," Harper said. "It was a big surprise to be asked to stay. I helped arrange the catering for this celebration of an energy-saving company, but…I have no event-planning experience, so…with the few remaining arts-related tasks being handed to other people and…and my lack of a college degree-"

"See," Charlie told Dee. The look of significance had returned. "One of the things we have in common."

Harper turned on an angle, her gaze now entirely focused on Charlie. This, of course, made him a bit nervous, and he began to pick imaginary lint from his clothes and hair.

"That means something important to…" Harper gestured between the two of them, ignoring Dee's groan.

"This is boring!" Dee whined. "I can't believe Charlie doesn't charge you for the babysitting time. Maybe I'll call 'To Catch a Predator'. Or 'Hoarders'," She grinned when Harper sent her a glare that combined confusion with 'shut the hell up' (best kind of glare outside of a movie). "I've seen the inside of your car."

"From the _**outside**_…and that was one time," Harper retorted. She returned her focus to Charlie. "I've started job-hunting, applied to a few places, and a big decision's been made."

"I tried to keep you _**away**_ from each other when I mentioned the Waitress." Dee spat in disbelief. "I saw you kiss him good-bye once and I threw up a little!"

"Shut up!" Harper cried at the same time that Charlie sat forward and said, "_**You**_ told her, Dee? I wondered how H could know anything about my past with-"

"'You were saying, 'With the Waitress', Charlie, really? That's putting it very, very loosely."

"You opened your evil wench mouth and-"

Dee's eyebrows shot up. "Where did he learn the word 'wench'?"

Harper raised a hand in placation. "I think he left the History channel on last night while he slept. Hell if I know."

"You _**told**_," Charlie continued. "and that was supposed to just stay dead."

Dee sneered. "It'll never die, Charlie. You're always going to be at least curious about the Waitress. I mean, look at how you freaked out when you heard she was engaged."

His eyes were wide and excited, his lips an unhappy, slim line as he pressed them together.

"I have news." Harper told him. "You deserve to know."

"You said that earlier, but then I brought up the Vin Diesel flick, so…"

"Right, right, a distraction, yeah…but eventually, I had to remind you that New Jersey was never going to be my permanent home. Sure, after, like, three months, I changed the address on my license, but more had to give, okay?" Harper's fingers drummed briefly on the seat cushion. "I've known all along that this job would be temporary, and that's just one of the reasons why I've stuck to my decision to move home when my time workin' for the city runs out!"

Charlie blinked, sipped from his glass of water, raised an eyebrow at Dee, and met Harper's gaze again. "Okay. That means…finding a new job in Philly? Do you think you'll apply to work at Z Ladies? Because…then you'll know all the words to every Ludacris song and your hip hop knowledge will scare me even more."

Dee stared at Harper until the young woman turned her way. "You share a name with a kiln and furnace-maker."

"I've heard that Deandra is Greek for man."

"You ass***e, it means-"

"Ah, whatever; go away, I'm trying to talk to-"

Dee brightened a bit. "You're trying to break up with Charlie, yeah! I can tell. I'm going to go tell the guys, let them down gently…y' know, since…this relationship is worth grieving."

She stood to leave.

"Get out o' here, Dee," Charlie demanded. "Or you'll be tied up long enough to miss another concert from a male singer who…who…"

"Who's really into cougars." Harper looked up through her eyelashes. "Like yourself."

Dee stared down at her as if trying to set Harper's organs ablaze.

Harper smiled in reply.

"The same number of people who think you two go together probably equals the number who think most of Theory of a Deadman's songs don't sound the same." Dee told her, and with that, grabbed her bohemian satchel and marched out of the bar.

Charlie sighed. "Fine, let's talk about it: What's this about work and going home?"

"I consider home to be my parents' place in Colorado." Harper answered. "See, I moved straight from my mom and dad's to my friend's house in New Jersey for this job. If I can't find new employment by the time this is over, I'm going to -"

Charlie's hands flew up. "Okay, I'm full. Delicious conversation, really, but this is a lot to hear at once, okay? I mean, what am I goin' to do with the flame thrower in my-"

"I'm not leaving tomorrow! I'll be here next week, too! This thing is moving to an end, though, and I should be pulling away from this city before Chanukah." Harper seemed to start mentally drifting. "Maybe even before Thanksgiving."

"How about I get a tattoo on my arm of that scar on your leg?"

"Oh, so this discussion's just goin' to get weirder and weirder?"

Charlie gave Harper what he hoped was his childlike, cute smile. It didn't have its entire desired effect, but a moment later, she did kiss his stubble a few times.

* * *

_So...where did that come from?_

_Now the author would like to dedicate this chapter to Vincent Van Gogh, and to Diana Agron because of the irrelevant, mildly insulting comments about the GQ photo shoot she took part in recently (recently as of the writing of this chapter). Last edited 07.31.12_


	13. Trash Can Cupcake

_Mac and Dennis: Making the Big Decisions_

* * *

"Two questions: What were you and Harper doing today that had you going so crazy, and may I use this chemical to help clean this sucker?"

Mac and Charlie surveyed what had become of the swimming pool…until the former noticed what exactly the latter had cradled in his hand.

"Oh god...Look, Charlie, I really think that if you added that to this cleaning stuff, it would become an explosive."

Dressed in a very faded Wolfmother T-shirt, ill-fitting jeans, Charlie set two plastic jugs down by his feet, one of rubbing alcohol, one of pool algaecide.

"Okay, fine," he said. "But you've _**gotta**_ know that it isn't easy to prove we're just as good as Dee and other people like her, when you're getting upset over stuff like this."

Mac groaned. "I was watching a marathon of that MTV show where good-lookin' chicks date dudes who just go to the gym and tan and make up slang!" He squatted down next to the pool and peered inside. "_**We**_ could do that! Whoever built this should have added some, like, fiber optic lighting."

"You want to be like those Italian guys who look orange and try to bang random-you know what?" Charlie smacked his own forehead. "I don't know why I said that in a negative way, bro. Let's do it together. We'll get a reality show and slick our hair back in this shit-ass way and work at a T-shirt stand!"

"Dude, is that…" Mac reached for the nearby pool scoop, his free hand pointing at the water. "Is that a raccoon's tail, man? How the hell…"

"Maybe raccoons like to swim!"

"I doubt that, Charlie."

"Well, listen; we should be having fun, not pushing to compete with-"

"This thing is a mess," Mac dragged the contents of the now-full pool scoop across the top of the water. "I have to get a better look at this. How do you let your property-and a pool, no less, since they're awesome in general-get to this point?"

Charlie sat at the other end, examining the pool algaecide. "I sometimes let ticks live in my hair and clothes…just so they have someplace to stay after a dog dies."

Mac's head moved sharply in his direction, their eyes meeting. "What?"

"Yeah, ticks."

Relief washed over Mac's face just as quickly as he masked it with a new concern: "I know that your mom's neighbors aren't home for another week, but dude…what if they own a dog? ...Or something that would alert people to trespassers, attack us, maybe…"

"They don't own a dog." Charlie replied, picking a dead fly from the water. "My mom wouldn't live next-door to these people if they did."

"Oh yeah, she's afraid o' dogs."

"She's afraid of animals scratching and eating her face."

Mac blinked. Charlie studied the pool.

"The tick thing is one of your dumbest ideas this week, bro, and I say that as one of your best friends. Now look, okay…?" Mac dumped the contents of the pool scoop (half of a raccoon tail included) into the large plastic garbage can a few feet away. "About this morning…"

* * *

_Five Hours Earlier…_

* * *

"So then Mario hops over and-"

"Found you!" Harper said, her elbow bumping Mac's. With one hand, she tapped the manila folder that held the Paddy's Pub copies of his most personal information. Her other hand lightly massaged her temple.

He simply glared at her in response.

She plopped the folder on the nearby desk and opened it without glancing inside.

"I don't want you to know my social security number." Mac grumbled.

"Don't worry about it, you big baby."

"So these are…what, the second copies of all of my most personal legal information?"

Pausing in the doorway, Harper pivoted in her faded Converse All-Stars. "Mac…did you just…"

He was busy looking through the paperwork. "Get out o' here, Harper. I'm making sure that this stuff is still accurate."

"You don't really think these are the only copies, though, do-"

"Why wouldn't they be?" He replied, clearly annoyed.

"What about other jobs of yo-"

"I've worked as a mail room guy before, but that was so long ago that those bosses probably shredded everything about me."

"Well, maybe they have. I-"

"Besides that place, the truth is that I've only ever worked at Paddy's Pub. I know that this means my personal stuff isn't floating around countless government offices in this city."

"What about your apartment? Didn't you need identification and your social security number to sign for the lease?"

Mac flashed back to Dennis kicking him out of the apartment so that his then-wife with the dead tooth could move in. How he wished his own name were on the lease.

"What's this about a dead tooth?" Harper inquired.

He shook himself. "It's nothing! Jesus! Get out of here. Go brainwash Charlie some more."

Harper rolled her eyes and turned away.

Dated resumé in hand, Mac paused again. "You really should move on and stop trying to keep a fun thirty-five-year-old in your clutches…bangin' you, givin' you money…"

"If by givin' me money, you mean the time he traded the Waitress' iPod mini with a little girl at a fast food restaurant for her kids' meal, then gave the bag to me…I guess so."

Mac groped around in one of the drawers of the desk until he found a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "Whose are these?" he muttered. "Maybe Frank thinks they make him look tough."

He piled his feet on the desktop, relaxing with the lighter in his fist.

"You're just a dick." Harper said tiredly as she made her way out.

Whether or not he was a dick was not his belief or concern. No, Mac was busy playing with the lighter. Just holding it felt very strange. In contemplating this, Mac tilted his hand dramatically on one side, distracted, creating and extinguishing flames. In his other hand was the Paddy's Pub liquor license. This combination was just enough to quickly line the edge of the paper with a light orange color-one that ate away at unsuspecting fibers. Mac stared at this for a beat, enraptured, though he had no reason to be surprised, and glanced quickly at the door. Right now, it was roughly eleven o'clock in the morning and the bar was not only empty, but the door was locked. Mac was alone with the remaining half of the liquor license, finally huffing at it, slapping it on the desk beneath his other hand, the lighter closed and discarded near the pens and pencils.

"Ah shit." He muttered, repeatedly bringing his hand down on the slightly blackened edge of his document. "If I burn everything, it looks like I never existed!"

The Paddy's entrance door closed heavily and he jumped, looking up immediately.

"What's goin' on, man?" Dennis asked, grinning, leaning into the room, supported by his palms against the doorframe.

"Um…" Mac replied, his eyes wild. "Nothing, everything's great."

"What's that in your hand, pyro? Not something important, I hope."

Mac held his gaze suspiciously for a moment.

"Today's Friday, dude. We've got 'o make sure Paddy's is ready for how busy it's gonna be."

"I'm having a moment, dude," Mac replied. "And it's one o' those moments where I want to start a whole new life, improve my skills as a bad-ass." He nervously slid the remaining half of the liquor license off to his far left. "I'm inspired by this lighter, and I know that sounds weird, bro, but look…" Gesturing to the open file on the desk, "I could put together roughly one-hundred dollars and get a new name, become a new man, and Mac would no longer be real! These muscles…would cease to exist!"

Dennis, his face the picture of disturbed surprise, rolled his eyes.

Mac patted his bicep. "Yeah, it'd _**look**_ like this sublime, Olympian body isn't real, but…it totally is."

"Is that what you've been thinking about for the last three hours, dick wad? Have you been sitting around here, having a life crisis? What the fuck?" Dennis strode across the room as he spoke, snatching the lighter and the file, closing it. "Paddy's needs to be cleaned for tonight and you're wasting time like you did in the abandoned diving pool. I'm calling Charlie."

Mac studied the ashes in his palm. "You don't care about my mental and emotional health. I'll remember that."

"Of course I do, man! Shut up! You're co-owner of a bar and you have tattoos and you sometimes get chicks who aren't ugly, and-"

"Not helping."

Dennis cleaned off the desktop, shutting things away in drawers, hiding the cigarettes and lighter in his pocket. "I'm getting rid of this shit. None of us smoke, and you and I shouldn't if we want to maintain our muscles."

Still staring at the damn ashes, Mac nodded sagely. "That's a very good point. I'll admit that; a good point."

"That's right, I know it's a good point; now let's go get chores done like the adults we are. This is fucking ridiculous, dude, because you're having a self-pity fest back here when you really should think about…What are you doing?"

Mac dusted his hands off, hovering them over the wastebasket. "I'm making sure that the remains of my past all land in the garbage can."

"You know that other businesses and more than one city, state and national government agency have files of your information, right? Countless government employees could find out your name, address and other s^t if they needed to. It would just take some poking around."

"I know that, butt hole, but this was just my way of-"

"What would you even change your name to?"

Mac slumped a bit as he followed his friend out of the back office and closed the door. "I'd, um…I guess I'd look up some awesome pirates in history, and…like, maybe take one of their names…or part of the name."

Dennis stared back at him incredulously. "You're kidding."

"Why would I joke about this insane depression I'm going through right now?"

Dennis groaned. "Stop abusing the word 'depression' like most of America, now fuckin' look. I'm sorry, bro, I love you, you're my blood brother, but…come on. That name-change wouldn't help any, and Mac is a cool nickname to use to help you pick up chicks who want the bad-boy type, and the pirate idea is stupid."

"It's not stupid."

"It is, and you have some bad-boy qualities that-"

That's when Mac's expression brightened. "You see it too?" He straightened his posture.

Dennis discreetly rolled his eyes. "Yes. I do. You're a cool guy, man, now I'm gonna call Charlie. You should dust and shit and check whether or not we need to stock up on certain beers or liquors because we have gotta start _**now**_."

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

* * *

Harper wasn't the only reason why Charlie had developed an appreciation for playing with flames in a recreational way on occasion. He liked the little popping and cracking sounds that came from burning logs, and the way setting fire to plastic plates afforded him more alone time: nearby strangers would cough and glare and make their exits with a rather resentful attitude.

At the moment, he was getting a slight calming feeling from the miniature funeral pyre before him. It was good to see the half-mask and the long black cape slowly and steadily leaving him the f%$k alone. Those items were part of his Halloween costume, and they alone brought about trouble. Charlie was convinced that the look made him irresistible to women, since a couple of crazy girl-related incidents went down at the party back in October. It was no longer enough to hide the costume underneath the bed in the apartment he shared with Frank, because sometimes, he'd get little flashbacks to things like shoving the other masked man at the party, thinking that his girlfriend was the Waitress, and the overwhelming fear and disgust at having Artemis' lips smashed against his, her tongue in his mouth, when _**she**_ was the food fetishist bangin' old Frank. Reliving it now made him squirm. It was just too much…so...destroying the costume was both symbolic and an act of kindness, in his opinion, as if he were Jack Nicholson in _A Few Good Men_, saying he did unpleasant things for the sake of humanity's safety. What man can handle chicks hurling themselves onto him in a forceful and sexual way, talking a lot, gripping the ruffles of his swashbuckling shirt in their manicured fists? It was f^&king insane and upsetting for him that night; it made him _**cry**_. So here he was, getting rid of- his cell phone rang. You know, his new one- not the short-lived kind that Mac claimed to be the preference for drug dealers.

He pressed his thumb against the dial key.

"Hell_**o**_?"

"Charlie, hey, how are ya, dude?"

"Dennis!"

"Yeah, yeah, hey, man!" Dennis was doing that combination 'yeah' and chuckle that always accompanied a request for Charlie to do something for him.

"What's up? Isn't it a little early to be at the bar?"

"Well, it is a Friday."

Charlie blinked. "I…oh, oh, it is. Yeah, sorry, I forgot."

"Not to sound like a dick, but didn't I buy you a calendar?"

"Yeah, and I like it, but I'm on the roof right now, dude."

"Um…" Now it was Dennis' turn to pause. "Right, okay. Well, would you mind coming over to the bar soon? Because honestly, there's a lot to do today; I mean, really. So Mac and I are on top o' things and we could really use your help with the janitorial work. It's gonna be a busy night, I just know it, and – "

"Okay, yeah, I'll be there. I just have to finish doing something here first. It's important but it won't take long."

"I don't even wanna know what it-"

"I'm burning my Halloween costume."

"The one I switched into the night of the party; the party that was _**months **_ago."

"Yes." Charlie, trying to avoid another onslaught of memories, massaged his temple. "Maybe it's carrying around some black magic or somethin', but it brought powerful bad luck that night, man. I was pissed."

"If by pissed, you mean drunk, then hell yeah, you were."

"Well, that too." Charlie shook himself. "All right, I'll be there in an hour, or…more than…yeah, that makes more sense…more than an hour."

He and his longtime friend hung up within seconds.

* * *

_In the present…_

* * *

"I wish I'd figured out sooner that your mom's neighbor had a private pool."

Charlie leaned back on his hands again. "Her _**old **_neighbor lives here, Mac; _**former**_ neighbor, because my mom's had two houses and an apartment since I was born."

"That…is…fascinating," Mac replied. He clapped his hands together and raised both fists as if about to flex his arm muscles. "It's almost time to turn the pump back on! We're halfway through!"

"This homeowner isn't gonna look into their backyard, see a clean pool, and get suspicious, right?"

Mac paused. "Uh no, no, dude, we're fine. I guarantee it. I'm sure they're going to be distracted by the nice things they own. Did you get a glimpse at their TV as we snuck by the window?"

Charlie's eyes lit up. "I did! The screen was huge! I looked at what I could of the kitchen, too, and it was worth it: the fridge, man. Imagine all the food it must hold! The family that lives here might have the best ice cream and oranges and sandwich meat and stuff."

Mac nodded, as he was disinterested, distracted. "We can come back here in a day or two. By then, we might need to pick out a few leaves, but other than that, this pool will be ripe for a cannon ball, diving, keeping these jacked muscles in good form."

"It would be legal for me to look through their garbage can on the curb, right? I could just peek in it real quick to see if there's a scrumptious cupcake gone to waste."

"Charlie, I won't have you eating garbage. That's so unhealthy, dude. I don't even know where to begin the explanation about that," Mac rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "You checked out the basket, right?"

Charlie looked up at him. "Basket, there's a basket involved?"

"You know, by the capsule-like object at the side of the house. You told me that everything was fine there, all checked out."

"Yeah, yeah, of course; I got to that."

Mac put the lid back on the space for the skimmer basket.

"Hey, Mac, a while ago…?"

"Yeah?"

"Just before I said a voodoo prayer to ward off Jamie Nelson's spirit…?"

Mac sighed. "Sure you did. You don't know anything about voodoo, man. Who knows what you conjured when you started jabbering away."

"Well, how do you know anything about how to clean a swimming pool, huh? I find that a tad bit suspicious!"

"You can learn a lot o' s&$t on the internet."

"Once I find a leftover apple or something, we should head out. We don't know when these people are coming home."

"I'm almost set, here, bro. No worries." Mac glanced at his friend. "Did you see oxidizer or burner in the pool owner's shed?"

"It's locked. I couldn't check, but I'll break into it if you want me to."

"Did we buy any? I don't remember. We have to do something called 'shocking the pool', and to do that, we need a specific 'shocker'."

"Well, rubbing alcohol cleans anything, dude-" Charlie replied, holding up the aforementioned bottle.

Mac sighed, shoulders tensing. "We don't need that kind of shocker. The skimmer gets involved somehow, and we need specific stuff…I really thought I had made a list of necessary equipment and followed it. I could have sworn."

Charlie shrugged, got to his feet and ambled to the edge of the pool, observing. "Looks nice and clean," he said. Then his gaze met Mac's. "You haven't told me the whole story about what you said to Harper. She must be really upset. I can't get hold of her and I want to, so tell me."

"I don't think you know enough about her, dude. Yesterday, Dennis and I went out for dinner, and saw your little friend Harpsicle leaving the pretentious pub across the street."

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "You were that far away? You went to the place that uses cloth napkins?"

"That very same place, and she wasn't alone." Mac took a deep breath. "Who walked out behind her but Shmitty. He held the door and made her laugh. It was appalling."

Eyes wide, Charlie shook his head slowly, swallowed, took a step back. "You've got to be kidding. She can't suddenly turn into another person, no. This…this isn't funny, man."

"No, Charlie, I'm not making this up! I wish I were!"

"I know you have a problem with her, but-"

Mac seized his friend's shoulders. "It's true. Please look me in the eye, man. Listen. Dennis saw it, too. Shmitty made your girl smile. I don't know why anybody would have sex with a downer like him, but maybe she's considering it. You know how those college girls are."

"She's not in college anymore. Harper wouldn't go behind my back, anyway." Charlie pushed his hand through his messy hair. "Not when we have this deal between us; we made an agreement, and I just…You don't know her. I know her."

"Well, for how long did you really believe that a chick in her twenties would want to be with a janitor who eats erasers?"

"I _**usually**_ eat food."

"Hey, hey, no need to get defensive. I've got your back, dude. I understand that you're freaked out because your girlfriend is cheating on you with a sleaze from the factory of eighties-movie sidekicks."

Charlie moved as if about to kick something. "Shut up Mac!"

"Bu there's more! After Dennis and I witnessed the realization of one of your nightmares, we decided to confront Harper about it."

In one of the most subtle changes in expression he'd ever undergone, the muscles around Charlie's eyes tightened, as did his mouth. "Mac, I thought you knew by now that I do what I do. You're one of my best friends, but we don't bother each other about what we're doin' with ladies. It's our own business…each of us. It's not like I know or care who you're having sex with, right?"

Sobered, Mac nodded. "Right, yeah, agreed."

"Since I met Harper, we went to a restaurant once and I didn't get us kicked out. I walked by a cupful of pencils yesterday and didn't bite off the end of one of them. You can have the biggest problem with Harper, but you have to stop raggin' on her to me, man. That's enough."

"Charlie, she was with _**Shmitty**_. He quickly walked off in one direction and she in another. Dennis and I couldn't just let a horror of this magnitude go ignored, so we confronted her right away."

* * *

_Three hours ago…_

* * *

"How's it hangin', Harp-opotamus?"

Mac paused, slowly turned his head and glared at Dennis in bewilderment. He opened his mouth, ready to express himself, but Harper got there first: "Really?"

He cracked his knuckles. "Enough small talk; the king of epic insults is talking. Now harlot, we need answers before we inevitably tell Charlie that you're bangin' somebody else."

Having recovered from his childhood friend's condescension, Dennis put on his scheming face. "What's even juicier about this story is that you weren't just out with any guy, but with that one."

Harper furrowed her brow in confusion, fingers clinging nervously to the hem of her top.

"Our team," Dennis continued. "Our _**gang**_ rejected that jackass – "

"And hard," Mac added, patting his deltoid muscle.

"So when our good friend Charlie finds out about this betrayal, I'll be there for the aftermath, grinning as you leave."

Harper's hand met her hip, making the heart-shaped charm on her silver bracelet knock against pink rubber ones. "You dislike me so much that you're leaping to a grand conclusion about how I walked out of a restaurant? In a way, you're excited about getting Charlie upset. I thought all of the age jokes were enough."

Mac shook his head. "I make slut jokes, too."

Her eyes narrowed then, and he smirked.

"In that case, what're you doing right now? Trying to blackmail me? I'd love to know. I have places to be."

"Oh no, we're telling him." Dennis replied, that grin still in place, his arms folding over his preppy button-down shirt. "Our pal's going to hear about this no matter what. We simply wanted the satisfaction of letting you know that you've been caught."

Harper sighed. "Am I right in thinking that if I left Charlie's life and never came back, that this would stop? You'd go back to being a sociopath and a superficial bully respectively, just…not with any mentions of me?"

"Uh, yeah, we've made that very clear, kid," Mac told her. "For it to have taken you this long to figure out our motive, then you're awfully slow."

"Shut up. You're the one who tore the sleeves off of a shirt depicting a tiny beer keg. I know you're a child, but don't you see that I get it? I -"

"Whatever, whatever; look, we've caught you doing something despicable, we're going to tell Charlie, and it would be beneficial if you'd cry as he dumps your ass, okay?"

"You two don't need to be together any longer." Dennis added.

"You…" Their victim's body was obviously tense. "are two of the worst kinds of people..." A cell phone began to ring, and her eyes lit up with recognition. Harper reached into one of the pockets of her bag, retrieving a phone that she merely stared at as she said, "Leave Charlie alone," rather softly, her shoulders relaxing, a frown threatening the corners of her mouth. "I'll tell him everything, and I don't ever want to see either of you cock knots ever again."

Mac's eyes widened and Harper continued with full eye contact, her face seemingly emotionless. "There's no reason why we should ever have to be in the same room a - "

"Was that Charles on the phone just now?" Dennis inquired. He was once again wearing that detestable raised-eyebrow-and-grin combination. He held up his own cell. "I'll just have to punch in his number – "

That's when Harper stalked away, leaving the two men alone outside a pub that wasn't theirs.

* * *

_In the present…_

* * *

Charlie blinked at his old pal Mac for a long moment, creating a significant, disappointed presence, even in very worn-looking clothes and stained, ripped sneakers.

"In conclusion," Mac said. "She's gross."

"I don't know who to believe. The only person who hasn't given me a hard time about Harper is Frank."

"Yeah, well, he'd bang twenty-two-year-olds if he could."

"If Harper was into body paint and keg stands and being mean, you might look again and treat her differently."

Mac sighed. "Instead, she's into her job, being a prick and living in Jersey. She sucks, and therefore, is not my type. Charlie, I have your best interests in mind. She does not."

"I'm trying her phone one more time." Charlie held his cell to his ear after pressing the necessary buttons. He was hopeful, unhappy, reaching out. Harper answered just before her voicemail kicked in, and he started at the sound of her voice. "I, uh…It's you! Hey!"

Mac groaned as he packed up the pool supplies he and Charlie had brought. "You two met in the spring," he grumbled in realization.

"We did?" Charlie asked him, his eyes darting between Mac and the phone. "I mean, uh…you and I have…what's it called, a May/December thing, and we met in May! That's…kind of cool, right?"

Harper agreed. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I didn't put expectations on how long this might last, so…holy crap."

Charlie chuckled. "Now do you wish you had been at the Halloween party to protect me?"

"Did you need a bodyguard to keep Artemis away?" Harper responded. "What a name that is…Artemis…"

Charlie shook his head rapidly. "Yeah, she's my friend, but if she gives in to my good looks one more time, I'll freak out. "

"If I hadn't been working, I might have gone."

"You would've."

"Okay, probably would've. My costume would have been lazy, though; something from my closet, like…Diablo Cody or a homeless person, or…"

Charlie hoisted one of the two full duffels of supplies onto his shoulder. Yeah, well, I'm so glad you finally answered your phone, because we need to talk about – "

"I'm sorry, I should go. See – "

"Harper, I know about Dennis and Mac – "

"Hope you believe me, but I don't want to see either of them again for a **_long time_**. Look at it as me helping you to keep two different parts of your life separate."

"I can't see you?" Charlie asked as he fiddled with the backyard gate. Mac appeared at his side with a duffel bag of his own. "We could play that game with sour gummy worms and my Green Man suit and – "

"Charles!" Harper laughed. "I thought we agreed not to **_ever _**talk about that!"

"You said we'd have a secret code. How can we have a secret code for that game when – "

Mac sharply smacked his arm, eyes flashing. "Shut **_up_**, dude. I heard a car pull into the driveway. We're screwed."

"What?" Charlie spoke into the receiver of his phone. "I have to go."

Harper seemed to recognize the urgency, hurrying her words. "Okay, good luck! Have fun! But I meant what I said about your friends!"

Dial tone, then the front door of the house closed twice, followed by a voice near the glass back door.

"Shit," Mac spat out, looking quickly at Charlie. "Are you still good at hoppin' fences?"

* * *

_01.31.11: Today, I finally watched the "Charlie Kelly: King of Rats" episode. xo Charlie! - edited 01.23.12_


	14. Plastic

_Charlie and the Strange Day

* * *

_

It isn't easy to eat spaghetti and walk at the same time. On a warm and sunny Wednesday, Charlie learned this for himself. He was on his way to Paddy's Pub from a movie theater, eating the pasta from a Ziploc bag bit by bit, thinking of what he needed to do today.

Ever since Harper made the decision to go "a _**long time**_" without seeing or hearing the rest of the gang, Charlie's life has involved even less stress. He had to admit that to himself as he spears a meatball with his fork. That said, he felt like a big bag of sad had been hovering overhead all day, following him through his restroom-cleaning chores at the pub, taking out the garbage, huffing some of the computer cleaner in the back room, and especially his inspection of the basement. It was in that cellar that he felt the aforementioned bag of sad dumped some of its contents, and that sadness dripped into his hair and eyes, sinking down to his brain and making him occasionally relive, throughout his day, the very actions he was about to execute. There had been so many rats down there – a little community of them – and he had bashed them all into flattened, bloody blobs…with tails. Doing so was a necessity for health and safety reasons, which he understood, but drip, drip, drip went that bag of sad, and he was also getting a bit philosophical, wondering if he was an inhumane monster for this behavior; if maybe he wasn't giving them the chance to get smarter and nibble on the crumbs of cheese that sometimes cling to his socks, and to start their own families, continuing the cycle. The thoughts about that just piled up as minutes went by, if he allowed himself to focus on the rats and the noises they made when he came at them with the bluntly named weapon of choice: the bashing stick. He hadn't meant for his friends to witness the brooding he did as he came up the stairs, but "Man, those little beady eyes…" he muttered at the memory, just before shoveling some tomato sauce-slathered noodles into his mouth.

He introduced himself to this mental anguish just hours ago, and now the gang was acting strangely. For instance, the fact that Dee drove him to the movies and paid for their tickets. She even let him temporarily house his aluminum dish in her purse to sneak them into the theater! Mac and Dennis had encouraged her to take him, too, which only made things weirder. If they were posting more bulls$t on the dating site profile in his name, there could be a problem.

"As if I'm the only person in the world who likes their jelly beans raw," he said to himself. If he knew and understood the word 'indignation', he would have applied it to his current mood…on top of that leak from the bag of sad looming over his unkempt head. He rid himself of an itch just beneath his ear with a hand that still wore the residue of the sauce. He had wiped the real thing onto the back of his Lake Tahoe T-shirt, layering it over some of the dirt and soot smudges that had been there all day. Luckily, he hadn't had to carry his meal around for very long, because before he'd even gotten to the nearest intersection, there had been a Ziploc bag resting against the base of a fire hydrant! It was the perfect size for his spaghetti! So he had retrieved the plastic fork from his pocket that he'd used during the movie, and sure, at the crosswalk, people had looked at him oddly, but he assumed it was simply because most people don't wear 3D glasses outside the cinema.

Soon after he crossed the street, Mac, Frank and Dennis hurried out of the bar to stand outside the door. Being very familiar with awkward laughter, he paid full attention to how it left the mouths of his pals, and to the story about a mishap inside doing severe damage to Dennis' genitals, even if the last of the pasta was – _slurp_ – delicious. Mac and Frank were laughing, and Mac made a reference to pot pie, and even if he didn't know what that dish looked like, Charlie nodded along.

"Oh god!" he said, pointing with his fork.

"Dickless Dennis!" Frank said, laughing.

Mac heartily agreed, smiling widely.

After a while, it was decided that he would be going to "the spa" and upon realizing that this meant he wouldn't be eating any more meatballs, he frowned.

"You seem distracted, man. What's up?" Mac asked him.

Frank and Dennis had already walked off, meaning he'd have to eat and walk again just to find them. He pointed across the street.

"Why is part of that house painted blue?"

"I don't know, dude. Maybe whoever painted it was huffing s&$# like you used to."

Charlie nodded sagely. "Right, I…used to."

"What?"

"N-nothing, let's go to this spotty!"

Mac guided him to Dennis' car, shaking his head all the while. "Are you feelin' okay today, man? Would you…want a different kind of bashing stick?"

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know, man; I don't know how to get out of this rut," He again opened the little plastic bag in his hand, fork at the ready. "So what's with the place you want me to check out? What kind of message could I get?"

"If you want to, you could get a _**massage**_. A massage is – "

"Are we going in that pool this week?"

Mac raised his eyebrows. "We can stop by once in a while to see if the owners are on vacation…?"

"Oh yeah…? That would be cool." Charlie almost smiled before biting into a meatball.

"We have to be patient."

"Yes, agreed."

They each closed a door to the car's backseat just as Dennis started the engine. "Put on your seatbelts, ingrates," he instructed, "I'm not in the mood to go slow."

Mac yawned and shifted in his unbuckled seat. Charlie ate and watched the world go by through the window he'd left a handprint on just weeks before. Frank folded and unfolded his legs, then took his energy to the radio knobs, toying with the genre of music, scoffing at a political talk show on one station, gaping at singer Katy Perry's "Do you ever feel like a plastic bag" philosophy, skipping over blues guitar and a commercial for a home supply store.

"Just _**pick**_ one, would you, Frank?" his son cried out.

Charlie blinked rapidly. "What-what's up? Fighting?"

Mac respectfully quieted him. "Let's see what happens. You know this can be amusing."

"For how long do we have to stay at the spot?"

"Not long, bro, I promise, just…long enough for you to relax a little after your rough day. Know what I mean? You've been acting weird all week, like you're feeling low. I'm not the conceited type, and Dennis cares about you, so we want this to be one of those good days after hard work in the basement."

Charlie chose that moment to picture himself in the back office at Paddy's, the door half-open, his fingers wrapped around an aerosol can, his ass perched on the edge of the desk, waiting for a familiar high. What was about to happen – this spot day, as he thought of it – sounded about as fun as the feeling he was sure he'd get when he ran out of spaghetti. When he and the guys went inside the well-decorated building with delicate swirls at the corners of the shop window, he saw the very clean look of the reception desk, his best friends shouting at Dee, and he swallowed a wad of noodles, wondering when the day would end – when he could go home to a mattress and bed bugs and creaky walls, away from small spaces and being carted from one activity that wasn't his idea, to another that wouldn't allow him to eat anymore. He sighed. No matter what was going through his head, his friends were going out of their way to do things with him, no matter how odd it was. With that thought, Charlie looked over at Mac, who met his gaze seconds later. "Hey, man, uh…"

Mac slightly inclined his head.

"Are you goin' back there, too?"

"I think I am. If I can...It sounds fun." Mac replied.

They smirked at each other and Charlie decided that today, he'd simply go along with his friends.

* * *

_last edited 02.07.11 - - It's a 3-dimensional luau and everyone's invited_


	15. Socks

_The Gang Goes On Twitter_

* * *

"Right, yeah, that's exactly it, Charlie," Frank exclaimed in his heavy New Jersey accent, his hands waving and clenching. "I can't do much of the hands-on labor because of my bad back! Remember how it was around the time we almost got married? This is another situation that supports that partnership idea, by the way."

"No, man, it's a good idea that we didn't follow through on the same-sex marriage thing."

The apartment door creaked open, but Frank continued, oblivious. "I don't know about that, because you really made some good points at the time, and I still have the paperwork if – "

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya!" Charlie cried, watching a very familiar dark-haired girl set her bag on one of the nearby chairs and close the door. "Change of subject!" He said. "Let's watch _Lethal Weapon 5_ or something; get a new mood going."

Frank raised an eyebrow.

"We can talk about who we think was the better Riggs between Mac and Dennis." Charlie added, moving across the room. "I, uh…I think we should start making dinner now. You're hungry, right?"

Harper smiled at him. "I'm very hungry, but um…how long ago was it that you and Frank thought of _**getting married**_?"

Charlie's arm curved around her shoulders and tightened.

"I'm not trying to make you feel trapped," she added. "But I do…deserve to know, since I've heard about it."

Frank waved his hands downward in a dismissive gesture. "Charlie and I didn't end up fillin' out that paperwork - "

Charlie leaned close to Harper's ear. "I wanted to do it to get my back fixed."

"Yeah, health insurance; Anyway," Frank strode across the small apartment floor. "I want all of you fellas to help me renovate part of the bar. I made the decision this morning when I was down there, and when Mac showed up to open the place, he blew me off like an asshole. Dennis - "

Charlie dropped his arm to his side. "You wanna change Paddy's? Why? And…and what're you tryin' to do to it?"

"They wouldn't be changes that made the bar look drastically different," Frank replied. "Charlie, I could show you my ideas. I wrote some of 'em down, and maybe we could talk everybody else into it. I couldn't get hold of Deandra and Dennis thinks it's a bad idea. He'll need some convincing."

"If this is another try at getting our pub to look like that Duncan guy's place- "

"Charlie, no, I've moved on. This would be stuff with the supply closet and the bathrooms, since…things haven't been the same since we made one of 'em unisex - "

Harper's mouth fell open. "_**What**_?"

"Dennis is actin' weird today," Frank continued, ignoring her. "He just started an account on, um, Twitter. I don't even know what that is. Should Paddy's get one?"

Charlie then shot a confused gaze back and forth between his roommate and girlfriend.

"He was really distracted and didn't think the bathrooms should be improved to get us more customers."

"Uh, relax, relax, Frank!" Charlie pulled out a chair from the small kitchen table. "I could make you a ham and jam!"

Harper watched his every move as he scurried from cabinet to cabinet, from the fridge to a drawer. She tried to touch his arm. "What's a ham and jam? If I…might ask..."

Frank eased into the chair. "Ham and grape jam sandwiches. One night, I got home and Charlie had huffed way too much - "

Charlie spun around, eyes wild, bursting with false laughter. "Okay! Dude, hey, that's enough. Don't bore Harper with the details, okay?"

"He was making a ham and jam, he let me try it, and now we eat 'em from time to time. They're good! Want one?"

The sound of a _thunk, thunk _made both Harper and Charlie pause to watch Frank get comfortable with his feet on the tabletop.

"At least you're wearing socks." Harper muttered.

"Yeah," Frank scratched at his armpit. "They're warm! I've worn this same pair for _**days**_!"

The next ten minutes were spent in quiet. Frank and Charlie munched on their individual sandwiches while Harper repeatedly checked her cell phone screen.

"Are you waiting for your other boyfriend to call?" Frank teased around a mouthful of food.

Harper glanced at her phone again, this time opening it and typing. "I, um…Yesterday, I posted something on Twitter about how I won't watch any of the 'Twilight' movies out of protest against the poorly written book, and ever since, I've been occasionally getting tweets from _**Taylor Lautner**_ about it!"

Charlie wiped a drop of jam from the corner of his mouth. "Is that cool? I mean, having this person talk to you?"

She shrugged. "Lautner is an actor in the 'Twilight' flicks and he seemed great, as if he was very normal, very 'of the people', but a couple of his posts have said things like," Harper pressed a few buttons to pull up a specific message. "'I get the impression that you're an un-American douche bucket.'" She leaned back and raised an eyebrow at Charlie. "It brought up _Robocop_."

Her boyfriend cleared his throat. "You're throwing a lot my way at once! I-I just want t' know if this actor dude is, like, trying to pick you up 'cause you can legally buy beer."

She tilted her head. "What? Everything's fine. No worries, man."

The sound of a badger's growl suddenly began to echo throughout the sparse apartment.

Frank tore another bite from his sandwich. "What the hell is that?"

"I…It's my ring tone," Charlie explained, scratching an itch on his bearded chin with one hand, using the other to take his cell from one of the pockets of his baggy flannel shirt, accepting a call, leaving a smudge of jam on the keyboard. "Hello? ...Yeah. Mom, look; if this is about taking a vacuum to your ceiling again, I told you…uh-huh… Are you sure? I mean, it has been a while, but…Forget I said that. It's goin' to be on Saturday…All right, four o'clock? Great, uh, love you too!"

Frank watched him close the phone. "What's up?"

"Dude, could you _**swallow**_ after you chew? I like to eat expired bread, not look at it."

Harper sat up, surprised. "How expired is it?"

"You're free Saturday, right?" Charlie shifted to face her. "My mom would like to do somethin' for you for your birthday."

She blinked, wide-eyed. "Oh wow, really?"

"W-You didn't have any plans for that night, did you?"

"No," she shook her head and Charlie's shoulders relaxed. "My only plan was to hang out here. You invited me over, saying we'd drop pennies from the roof of your apartment building."

Two pairs of brown eyes studied each other. One head tilted. A clock ticked. Then a belch rang out, calling attention back to the balding man in the room.

"Thought I should break the tension," Frank explained.

Harper groaned and looked away. "Tomorrow is Saturday, Charlie. I'm meeting your mother tomorrow night and the very thought of it makes me nervous."

"I need a beer." He muttered.

"Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing! See, I've wondered about aspects of the rest of your life, like what your mom might be like, how you've gotten to be this way, and...I have questions that I may not mind leaving unanswered."

Charlie sighed. "I still don't know if I believe you about tomorrow being Saturday. I, uh, could've sworn that it wouldn't be here for another two days, and this won't be a big deal, okay? We'll have a few laughs, eat some cheesecake, and…" he cleared his throat, slowly working his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You'll have to answer a ton o' weird personal questions. Then more cheesecake!"

"This…should not…surprise me. Um…Should I bring anything?"

"What? No. All I ask is that you don't mention that you love dogs, or that you have a Muslim friend."

"Charlie, you live with someone who is trying to turn his garden gnome figurine into a bong and _**I**_ am a big concern?"

"Ah, my mother _**knows**_ Frank..and they shouldn't see each other again. She's busy knitting and shit, spying on the neighbors. Maybe she's just feeling a little lonely since Mac's mom is still on her annual drinking binge with her old work friends."

Charlie rose from his chair and retrieved his and Frank's bare plates. Harper followed him to the sink.

"Please be honest," she whispered. "Is this your way of trying to avoid working on the Paddy's bathrooms?"

Realization seemed to dawn on Charlie's face before he looked her in the eye again. Leaning in close, he whispered, "That _**is**_ the reason," and clumsily pressed his mouth against hers.

When they parted, Harper made a soft '_ih_' sound and gestured as if about to touch her own lips. "Ham and jam."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dennis chuckled. "Mention her crooked boobs."

Mac typed furiously at his phone, his forehead creasing slightly at his friend's words. "What? What're you talkin' about, dude? We agreed that I'd call her lame and bring up _Robocop_."

"I think we should mix things up, that's all; insult her in as many ways as possible in a hundred and forty characters or less."

Mac sighed. "That's what Twitter _**is**_, dude." He relaxed further into their apartment's leather couch.

Beside him, Dennis rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "I give up. For the rest of the day, the tweets are all yours. I'm gonna go eat something."

Minutes after he crossed the room, the men heard a knocking on their door. Mac swung it open with a groan.

"Wha' d'you want, to burst my creative bubble?" he said. "Oh, hey Charlie; what brings you here, bro?"

Charlie's fingers were curled into a fist, smacking his opposite open palm. "Taylor Lautner."

A pause follows this statement, which Mac spends blinking at his friend. "You actually like the Harper chick, dude?" Mac looked up at his friend with a furrowed brow. "So you don't just see her as some faceless body with an obnoxious motor mouth?"

Charlie let his gaze fasten to Mac's hand. "Is it true? Are you on that Twit site? Have you found Harper on there? I guess some shirtless werewolf is bothering her, and if you're letting the guy get away with it, I'm not going to be happy."

Mac blinked. "Twit, uh…what's that? What do you know about it?"

"Harper's, like, suspicious, okay? She told me that Dennis might be in on it, but how could that be possible?" Charlie shook his head. "I don't understand what's goin' on here, but please don't be a dick just 'cause you don't like my girl."

"Who says I follow or harass some teenager online? I'm not causing trouble for anyone," Mac replied. "It is _**my**_ business if I've sold out and gotten a Twitter account."

"_Twit-__**ter**_? What is it _**for**_?"

"The world is still trying to figure that out!" Dennis shouted from the kitchen.

"Are you coming in, man?" Mac asked Charlie. "You've been standing in the hallway for, like, ten minutes."

Once the shorter man was inside the apartment with the door closed behind him, the conversation resumed, beginning with Charlie pointing accusingly at Mac.

"You just hit 'send' on your phone, man, what the hell?" He cried. "Don't make me paranoid. This is stressful. Harper says I shouldn't have to take sides!"

"She shouldn't be giving out advice; she doesn't know what it's like to be an adult. Have you _**seen**_ what she posts online?"

"I don't care. What does that Taylor guy say to her?"

Mac bit back a smile. "They're feuding or something. I don't pay him much attention since he's about twenty and his muscles aren't too impressive."

"Well I - "

"He's in some movies based on books; the _Twilight_ ones. She bashed the book that the first one's based on and he doesn't get why. He'll sometimes say these hilarious things, putting Harper back in her place. It seems that someday he might be as cool as I am. You know if he keeps this up."

"So he decided to just pick on someone he doesn't know? That sounds stupid."

"Well, Harper's opinionated and irritating." Mac typed on his cell a bit more and hit 'send'. "Bro, she sucks. "

Charlie sighed. "Well, on that note…I'm headin' out to meet her right now." He walked straight to the door and with one hand on the knob, paused to look back. "Just so you know…she's suspicious of you, dude. She showed me one tweet and said it looked like it had been written by either some James Howard Kun…Kut…Kuns-_tuh_-_ler_…or by you, because of the crappy job the guy did with periods, ignoring question marks."

Dennis breezed into the room then, wearing a smug expression. "Pray tell, does your Harpy think that in comparison, she's who? Jonathan Franzen?"

Charlie blinked. "Well, then she'd…be a man…right?"

Dennis smiled wider. "Maybe she has a mock penis for intimidation like a female coyote. Does she, Charles?"

Mac laughed heartily at that and within seconds, Charlie was gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx

He heard the tapping before he opened the door. He took a deep breath. "Ma, we're here!"

His mother's evening routine of turning lights on and off three times each had only begun a few years ago and yet it was terribly important to her that it continue.

"Oh Charlie, hi, how are you? How was the traffic on your way here?" By the time she finished speaking, his mother was at his side, arms around his middle.

"It was okay. Everything's goin' well, Ma. I have Harper with me."

The two women locked eyes and Harper smiled tentatively. "How are you, Mrs. Kelly?"

After a moment of combing a critical gaze down the young woman's appearance, Charlie's mother turned and led the way to the kitchen. "Take a seat," she said, going to a cupboard for plates. "Let's have some dessert."

Charlie met Harper's eyes and pointed to one of the simple wooden kitchen chairs.

"I made it today," Mrs. Kelly added. "It's roasted sweet-potato."

Charlie found the appropriate knife and immediately set to work cutting slices from his mother's creation.

"Happy birthday, dear," she said, smiling wanly as Harper placed a small pile of napkins on the table. "Now you've been together a while, right? So what are some of the things you two have in common?"

"Um…" Harper sat down. "He's…I…"

"How long have you been seeing each other?"

"Months…?"

Charlie put a plate down in front of his girlfriend. "I smell maple." He muttered.

She shot a look up at him as he walked back to the counter and retrieved two more plates.

"What?" She asked.

"The cheesecake," he replied. "Is there some kind of maple stuff in here, Ma?"

Mrs. Kelly nodded. "That's the maple cream, sweetie! You have a good nose!" Then, after taking a second to watch her son stuff his mouth with dessert, "What do your parents do, Harper? And what religion are you?"

"You know, that…that second question isn't…" Harper ate some of the frosting. "Appropriate. My dad's a social worker, though, and my mom's a retired art teacher."

"Which one of them did you get the pale skin from?"

Charlie stood with his nearly empty plate, eyes locked on the rest of the cheesecake.

"I –"

"You seem independent," his mother remarked. "If you and my Charlie had a baby, you wouldn't try to make him a stay-at-home father, would you?"

Harper's mouth fell open.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Mom, please, seriously!" He was frozen halfway to his second helping. "You shouldn't just spring somethin' like that on a person!"

"You…" Harper put down her fork. "You want Charlie to be a dad?"

"Not necessarily. He's so busy with his treasure-hunting and with his creative ideas," Mrs. Kelly's eyes lit up with pride. "He has a _**very**_ important job at the bar. Did you know that?"

Charlie sat down with a full plate. "Mom, look…I don't ever want to be a dad, okay? I thought about it, after that dumpster surprise madness."

"Dennis might be the worst around kids. Mac, though…he should never even babysit." Harper said, clearly half-amused. "He's out of his mind."

Mrs. Kelly raised her eyebrows, though her expression was one of slight confusion. "Mac is adorable. He's very respectful." Harper raised her brows as well, but Charlie's mother continued. "There isn't anything wrong with not being a part of Charlie's little group of friends, but it does say some things about you. What kind of birth control are you using?"

Charlie's fork dropped onto the plate. "Mom, come on. My sperm probably doesn't even work anymore. I've been in the sewers so much in the last few years – "

"We're not…" Harper cut in. "I'm never getting pregnant, especially not with Charlie's baby." She shot a look in his direction. "No offense."

He shrugged and returned to eating.

"Does this mean that you don't just have sex with each other?" His mother inquired. "Though if that's true and you don't mind, Charlie, then I don't either." She blinked at Harper. "Are you sleeping around?"

Harper briefly pressed her fingers to her brow, eyes closed. "I am now officially uncomfortable."

Charlie licked frosting from his lips. "Just wait 'til the neighbors get home. This is nothing."

She sighed and met his mother's gaze. "I am not – "

"If so," The older woman asked. "Are you charging for it? I've always believed that a life as a slut should be lucrative."

"Oh my god."

"You could do something with that kind of life. Look at the stripper in that terrible...What's it called? _Independence Day_."

Harper picked at the dessert remnants on her plate. "She got to marry Will Smith and get her dog away from Roland Emmerich's annoying wall of CGI flames. By the way, Mrs. Kelly, in my opinion, that reference could easily be mistaken for an attempt to turn this conversation into a discussion of pop culture, though it would lack all the ambiance of a diner and would have _**two**_ Michael Swaim-like characters, which...is a scary thought."

Charlie's mother blinked. "How many people are going to understand that joke?"

"Um…one?"

"Well, this is nice," the older woman said sarcastically. "My son is spending time with a woman who looks and sounds like the lovechild of Michele Bachmann and Randy Quaid."

Inhaling deeply, Harper stood up. "Charlie, I'm leaving. Mrs. Kelly, this cheesecake is delicious. Goodbye."

As she strode quickly and deliberately out of the house, Charlie looked up from his plate.

"Ma…" he shook his head. "I can't leave this house without the leftover cake."

The corner of his mother's mouth curled upward. "You have some crumbs in your beard, honey."

_05.08.11 A lot of credit belongs to Rachelle Neveu for this chapter...the idea that Mac and Dennis be posing as a currently well-known actor on Twitter, the title, editing, telling me that I properly represented Mrs. Kelly's voice...Thank you, Rachelle, for each of those things. _

_I had so much fun writing this! I'll be back later to see if it needs a little more, since I'm so uncertain about that..._

_I still love the "ham and jam" thing. Admittedly, I'm proud of it. _

_last visited on 07.30.12_


	16. Pre-Trial

_Mac: the Nutrition Expert_

* * *

Tasker Street, being part of a busy city, was a very mildly dirty street with a plot of garbage-strewn grass among buildings of red brick and gray cement at the hour when Mac and Charlie left the convenience store with the orange awning, releasing the store's cashier from their grip of nostalgic yarn-spinning about after-school recreation in junior high: mixing cheap alcohol with fruit juice or orange Crush, throwing rocks at passing trains, cars, or Mitch, the weird, narrow-eyed kid who lived on Mac's street.

Stepping out into the sunshine, Mac stretched his arms. "We've had eventful lives, haven't we, Charles?"

His friend was close behind, smiling to himself. "Of course; there's a specific kind of whiskey that straight-up reminds me of high school. And it got me to kiss Becky Palmer in, like, tenth grade. Good times!"

"Oh, Becky Palmer…the, uh, girl who lost her retainer in the garage once, I think…"

Charlie smiled wider. "Yeah, yeah, that girl; she was _hot_."

"I remember the day she lost that retainer. Didn't she, like, cause a scene, screaming, jumping back?"

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "_Super_ funny, dude, yeah..."

"A lunch monitor came runnin' over?"

"Can I have the keys? Could I drive?"

"Didn't they find _you _in the garbage can?"

The pair locked eyes.

"Maybe."

"Well," Mac dug his keys out of his pocket. "That was a long time ago, man, during your phase of sittin' in garbage cans."

"For sure; I'm glad I've moved on. Sewers have much better stuff for finding whatever-people-call-it…_vintage_ stuff."

"In that digging around, you do sometimes find useful things, right? Like, didn't you find a piece of a dictionary yesterday?"

"Yes indeed!" Charlie adjusted the collar of his oversized bowling shirt. "And today, I get to _uter_-"

"Utilize."

" – _utilize_ my new words in court. I will be confronting the _defendant_!"

Mac unlocked his Chrysler LeBaron. "That's killer, dude, killer." He grinned and gestured toward the passenger side. "Let's go, Mr. Attorney."

Fifteen minutes later, the car was pulling into the parking lot beside their bar.

He began picking at a zit beneath his mustache. "I'm excited about this court case, dude. I am so stoked that…I think I'm overheating. Is it warm in here?"  
"No," his friend replied with a chuckle. "It's all the glue in your empty stomach. I'm surprised a person can have an empty stomach in the same place where Dee and Frank hang out, because they each eat like _animals_, but…I was…I had a stupid argument with Dee last night – "

"I remember."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I kind of listened during commercial breaks from that paranormalshow."

"You watch everything paranormal."

"Got t' be prepared, Mac!" Charlie took a swig of his beer.

"Right, yeah."

"The spirits of our elders and previous owners are all around us!"

"Okay, man – "

"We cannot make them angry!"

Mac sighed. "Okay, dude, okay. Relax! Do you want a beer when we get inside, dude?"

"_Well_…that's tempting, but…I want tea to drink during the trial. I want to focus."

"Man, I know what you mean. I'm prepared: I made a _poster_. You'll see."

Charlie chuckled and undid his seatbelt. "You're very creative."

"Thanks!" Mac nodded. "I like to really apply myself in order to best express my opinions. I swear, with these brains and muscles, I could really contribute to the making of a sexy, _genius_ race of super-humans. Now…don't roll your eyes here, Charlie. I know I dumped a bunch o' this word vomit on y' last night, but hear me out: as the present changes, so does the future, and – "

Fifty feet away, the door to Paddy's Pub swung open and a familiar skinny blonde stuck her head out. "Hey douche bags!" She hollered. "Get in here! I haven't got all day!"

And as he and Mac each stepped out of the car, Charlie exhaled deeply and muttered, "For _once_, Dee…y' have good timing."

* * *

Mac sucked in his stomach, turning sideways before a full-length mirror, eyes focused on his reflection. "This has got to stop. Dennis, do you see this?"

Through the open doorway, he can hear his friend in the next room. "You're still doughy, dude, absolutely."

Mac narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Yeah, well…Every problem has a solution. I'm dieting. The weight loss isn't happening fast enough, so I'm goin' hardcore."

In the other room, Dennis paused. "What does that mean? You'll be eating only broccoli and Pop Tarts for two months like last time?"

"I'm taking a different approach this time. For instance, today, I can only eat meat."

"What about tomorrow?"

Relaxing as many muscles as he could [for maximum shame], Mac took his time answering. "Maybe I'll have broccoli for every meal, or fruit, because this is the _limit_ of my patience with my _own weight_."

"Smart thinking, dude," Dennis appeared in the nearby doorframe again, toothbrush in hand. "I mean, your whale-like situation has been this close to insufferable."

Mac frowned. Today, he decided, he wouldn't eat more than one plate of broccoli.

* * *

Two hours later, Charlie and Mac strode into Paddy's Pub.

"I've seen a commercial," Charlie said, "for a company that would **_insure_** my **_piggy bank_**! I might feel better going with that since I still have the money I won in Atlantic City."

Blinking, Mac paused. "Even after taking a frickin' **_private plane_** back to Philly, you have cash left?"

Charlie nodded vigorously. "I sure do! I mean, it's not a lot compared to what Dennis and I started with, but - - "

Mac mimed plugging his ears. "Dude…"

"Oh, that's right. My stories about that night **_embarrass _**you."

"Of course they do, and have you finally come to understand why?"

Charlie tilted his head, incredulous. "A-are you still upset about this?" he barked out a short laugh. "Oh my god, it's been **_months_**, and you're still upset."

"I just wish you would stop bringing up that weekend. It was one of the worst of my life…partly because you got to meet Chase Utley, my favorite baseball player, pretending that Dennis was me, drinking yourself into stupidity. Now an excellent Philly player thinks that I'm a drunken tool, when one of the things I've wanted most was to meet him, maybe parlay that into something. I could've started up another business, been an entrepreneur, and tied it in with Paddy's Pub, made good money and had Thanksgiving dinner with the Utley family each year, teach his son some life lessons as the cool uncle - - "

"You have really got t' **_move on_**, bro; it's been so long, New Year's Eve is coming up - -"

Mac blinked. "We're going to a big party that night."

"That's right, we are. We'll have a blast, dude. It'll be great."

"Yeah…" With eyes clouded by distraction, Mac patted his stomach. "Sure we will."

"Dennis said he'd find some hot chicks to invite to the party."

"Cool. Right, right, cool."

Charlie tilted his head, studying Mac's expression. "What's up with you today, bro? You're different somehow."

Mac sighed. "I, uh… am not feelin' good, man."

"Well, that…" Charlie forced a nervous chuckle. "That's okay, I-I don't even…" He shrugged.

"I'm just really hungry, to be honest." Mac's shoulders sagged. "You know I have the discipline to live on a strict diet for a while, but this one's really kickin' my ass."

"Well, if you're hungry, eat somethin', dude!"

"No, I have to wait another hour or so to have a specific meal." Mac patted his belly. "It's key to my success. I figure I'll start with a bag of thinly sliced roast beef and a few grape tomatoes."

"What, you're gonna eat two **_whole_** vegetables?"

"No, but I've cut back so much on food that it's made me more alert, I think, so why not put me to use on a project Frank has planned? We have to clean and polish the floors today, right?"

Charlie scratched an itch on the top of his head, drawing his friend's attention to the act with the amount of dust on his fingers. "Okay, well, Frank did say somethin' to me about the floors, so sure. I'll get the rags and wood polish."

Mac nodded, reaching a hand out for the nearby table. He blinked rapidly. "I've got to…distract myself."

"Okay. Well, how 'bout this as a distraction?" Charlie touched a dusty knuckle to the corner of his eye. "Dennis was talking my ear off yesterday, and I heard him say something about pills that help him – and especially his 'fat friends in college', he said – to keep things in shape. That, um…you'd be into trying that, right?"

Mac took a deep breath. "Into…what…Would I be into the pills? They sound like they might be useful. After all, Dennis uses them, has for years, and has had a good body all that time. He's consistent, y' know? I broke my streak toward the build of an Adonis by trying to take a vacation and go sloth, get an avatar and give him a chance to shine, broaden his horizons. I…I should ask Dennis about those supplements."

"They could help move things along, right? Get you self-sup minting, right? You'll feel good about yourself again?"

The friends blinked at one another.

Mac's stomach grumbled loudly. "I'm going to call Dennis."

Heading to the supply closet, Charlie nodded. "Could you have him come down here? We're all out of glass cleaner – all of it. Maybe he could bring some down and work with us to – "

"You know he's not cleaning."

"Maybe we give him a Dennis-reason, like to order us around or bring the pills."

Mac nodded. "It'd be both, if he had nothing else to do, but he's halfway through a book about mind control at the moment, and there's no way he's taking another week to finish it."

Charlie rolled his eyes and held up the aerosol can of wood polish in his hand. "We have most of the supplies we need, even if I drank some of the bleach last night. Wanna give Paddy's a bath? I could tell you again, word-for-word, everything Chase Utley said…?"

The corner of Mac's mouth turned up. "I guess."

* * *

_12.10.13_


End file.
